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“Did I do something wrong?”

That did it. The horror that Emma would think such a thing, even for a moment, finally enabled him to gain the control he desperately needed. This time, his heart, not his manhood, stirred.

He turned onto his side, propping his head on his elbow. “Wrong? Never.”

She was so incredibly lovely. She’d pulled down her shift, and a good thing because his wandering eyes could not stop gazing downward. What would it be like to have those legs wrapped around him?

“You have that look again.”

He groaned and pulled her toward him. “No more looks this eve, my insatiable minx.”

They lay side by side, Emma’s face just inches from his own. He caught himself from leaning his head forward to kiss her. It would only make it harder in the end.

“You’d best be getting back.”

“Aye,” she said without moving.

“Garrick,” she whispered, her hair tickling his cheek. He moved it to the side, trying not to look at her. “That felt really good.”

And there it was again. Desire welling inside him, pulling at him, encouraging him to . . .

No. He could not have her.

Emma was not his.

“I’m glad to hear you say so.” He pulled her tighter.

“I don’t want to leave yet.”

“Then don’t.”

Despite all the reasons he should tell her to go, he found he could not. He wanted her to stay too, but if they were ever caught, the fallout would be considerable.

Garrick allowed his mind to wander down that path. They’d have to marry, of course. His broken betrothal would enrage the Earl of Magnus, mayhap enough so to start a clan war. His uncle would use the incident to steal the title out from under him, and his mother would lose a husband and her inheritance in one fell swoop.

And yet Garrick still found himself reaching for the back of her hair, pulling the strands together, and moving them aside so that he could touch her neck. It was only an innocent touch, certainly nothing like . . .

Emma sighed.

And then he imagined her lying like this with Graeme. He pictured her atop him, her expression filled with the pure pleasure of release. A release given to her by another man.

No!

“I’m going to delay the wedding.” Even as he said it, he knew the words made no sense. He had to marry. Would marry. A delay was pointless.

“I see.”

She didn’t ask why. Or what it meant. Instead, she moved her head to the side to give him better access to the exposed skin there.

Garrick flipped Emma onto her back and moved over her.

“Don’t marry Graeme.”

She blinked. “I have no intention—”

“He will ask.”

The corners of Emma’s lips lifted and her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re being silly—”